Tabula Rasa
by Sanctuaria
Summary: In a world controlled by HYDRA, Bobbi and Hunter are waging their own form of resistance using both of their formidable skill sets. In other words, the story of what Huntingbird was up to in the Framework.
1. What If

**Hey everyone! Been working on this fic for a while and very excited to show you guys :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., though I wish I did so I could bring back Bobbi and Hunter and make sure they don't screw up that Black Widow solo movie that's in the works. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

 **ONE**

 **What If...**

 **Six Years Earlier**

Dust and pebble-sized pieces of rubble rained down on her and Bobbi jerked back reflexively but was unable to escape the cascade of small rocks. Most rolled off or bounced away, but a few stuck to her matted hair and bloodied skin. Her eyes scanned the floor near her, looking for her phone and her last chance at getting out of here alive. Her gaze roamed over her abandoned gun—empty mag, all extra clips used—and the only other body she could see.

"Vic!" she whispered hoarsely. "Vic!"

The head framed with red-streaked black hair no longer moved, and Bobbi let her own fall gently to the ground again.

There, that was it. Cracked screen from its harsh landing, but hopefully it would still work. It had to work. She heaved herself forward along the ground towards the cell phone, leg protesting in a sharp bite of fiery pain as she stretched out, trying to reach it. Just a few more inches…

Her vision swam, and for a few seconds Bobbi thought she was going to pass out. But no, her fingers closed weakly around the phone, pulling it toward her and relaxing the tension in right leg, pinned by a several-ton column of broken concrete. She was hit with the sudden urge to cough and did so, body going into weak spasms to try to rid her lungs of the dirt and soot. When the bout had passed, her forefinger found the contact she was looking for automatically, and she held the phone with a shaky hand, bringing it up to her ear.

"Bob?"

"Hunter," she breathed, voice coming in short ragged gasps. "Need...help."

* * *

 **Present Day**

"Hunter!" she slapped his hand away. "I said, don't touch that."

"Yeah, but I don't see why you have to dye your hair whenever you go undercover!" He nursed his fingers where she'd hit them.

"Because otherwise I'd stand out too much, you know how HYDRA likes their aesthetic to be dark and evil." She shoved the hair products back under the sink, away from Hunter's prying fingers.

"Thought they were descended from Nazis, weren't they all about blonde hair and blue eyes?" Hunter muttered.

"Still are Nazis," Bobbi said, crossing over to the queen bed and pulling on the dark red military coat laying on top of it. "And most importantly—" She tossed something from one of the pockets at him. "—it's because I was fresh out of the Tokyo op when the picture for this HYDRA ID was taken and now I need it to match."

"Not sure that's what you want to be wearing if you want to be overlooked, love." She had pulled the coat snugly over her body, and he was so busy eyeing her appreciatively that the ID almost hit him in the side of the head. He caught it, barely, and flipped it open. When he saw what it was, Hunter handed it back to her suspended from the tips of two fingers with a grimace. "Hate these things. They exude evil."

She rolled her eyes, taking it from him and slipping it back into her pocket. Bobbi finished buttoning her coat. "It's a fake. No innocents were harmed in the making of this ID."

"I know." There was a sigh in the words as he pulled her toward him and she caught the flash of sorrow behind his eyes.

She pursed her lips. "Hey," Bobbi said, but her tone was softer now. "I'm coming back."

"You can't promise that; you know you can't."

She frowned, tilting his chin upward to meet her eyes. "You having second thoughts about the project? A little late now."

"No, of course not. We're doing what has to be done. We're doing some good in this shot-to-hell world—someone has to."

"Then what is it?" She searched his face. "You can tell me."

"I just don't like it when you have to go somewhere I can't follow, that's all." Hunter pulled her into a hug. "Reminds me of..."

"Six years ago. Yeah. But you made it in time."

"You were still in a coma for six days from blood loss. Bob, you almost lost the leg."

She nudged him with it. "Left leg, present and accounted for."

He shifted away, giving her a piercing look. "I know it still pains you sometimes, Bob, no matter how much you try to hide it."

She kissed his forehead. "I'll be fine," she promised. "You keep an eye on the place until I get back."

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "You say that, but I know you turn right around to tell Izzy to keep an eye on me." Bobbi only grinned, sidestepping out of his embrace and heading for the door. "Don't die out there!" Hunter called after her.

It was a quick trip to the armory to don her HYDRA-issue gun before Bobbi headed out of the small, previously abandoned military bunker into the sun. Her breathing quickened at the chill wind sweeping across the small mountaintop where they based their camp. "Bobbi," called a man's voice from somewhere to her right.

She paused, waiting for the man to reach her. He was on the shorter side, Mexican, and was one of the ones who had been at the facility the longest. "Joey, what do you need?"

"Nothing." His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and normally alarm bells would have been going off in Bobbi's head at this stature, but she had long since learned that was just how the reserved man stood. "I was just wondering if you leaving meant we were getting some new people soon—if I should make up some extra bunks."

"Actually, yes, that would be great," Bobbi nodded. "If all goes well, it'll be a middle-aged woman and a brother and sister, kids." She stopped, thinking. "The houses we have in use are already getting a bit crowded, so I would talk to Izzy about opening up that one we've been repairing near the cliff edge."

Joey nodded. "Okay, will do. Good luck."

"Thank you," Bobbi said, and set off again. She headed for the grassy clearing which they used as their tarmac. The Quinjet was in full cloaking mode constantly so as to not raise suspicion from any aircraft flying overhead, but the thick cable supplying it with power snaked across the grass and led her right to it. Once she was inside, she checked that the gear was stowed properly before lifting off. Bobbi switched on autopilot as soon as she was far enough away from camp, and then her HYDRA transponder once she was an hour out. This was their plane, after all.

Then she took a nap.

The incessant beeping of the nav system awakened Bobbi, informing her that she was currently fifty miles from Washington, D.C. She took the stick herself for the descent, landing neatly on one of the Triskelion's many landing pads. The giant HYDRA symbol was visible out her front windshield, and she shuddered inwardly. Bobbi allowed herself exactly five seconds to compose herself before pulling on the persona of Bobbi Morse, HYDRA enforcer, wrapping the identity around herself like a blanket. A stiff, uncomfortable, uptight blanket.

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping her out of it. There was no caller ID.

"Morse," she answered it.

The voice that replied was guarded and unyielding and unmistakably male. "For the season, it's been unusually rainy."

S.H.I.E.L.D. "Rain or shine, the man with the umbrella is always ready," Bobbi replied. "Who is this?"

"My name is Grant Ward, and I need your help."

"How did you get this number?" Bobbi asked. "I usually liaise directly with the Patriot."

"I took it from his files," Ward replied.

Bobbi frowned. "What do you want, Agent Ward?"

"As I said, I need your help."

"My skills...or my project?"

"Your project. Tabula Rasa."

"This isn't a good time, but I can arrange a pick up point for you in about an hour," Bobbi replied, glancing out the window. Much longer and the HYDRA goons might get suspicious as to why no one has emerged from the Quinjet yet.

"No, it's not like that," Ward said.

"Are you Inhuman?"

"No, it's—"

"Then the project isn't for you," Bobbi told him, ready to hang up.

"It's my girlfriend! Skye. She's Inhuman," Ward whispered breathlessly. "I want you to take her to your camp. She'll be safe there."

Bobbi considered. "I'll need a blood sample as proof."

"I can provide that." Ward's voice sounded strained.

"All right. After I see the proof, I can arrange a pickup for her," Bobbi said. "What are her enhancements and what is her level of control?"

"That won't work. She hasn't gone through the change yet; she doesn't even know she's Inhuman. She's...she's an agent of HYDRA."

Immediately she was in high alert, a shot of adrenaline rushing through her veins. "No," Bobbi said flatly. "She could blow the entire project. Everyone would be at risk."

"Please," Ward uttered. "The random blood tests HYDRA does on its agents are getting more frequent and more random and I doesn't know how long I'll be able to keep switching her blood sample before the sequencing is done. She's a good person."

"She's HYDRA," Bobbi countered.

"They're going to find out soon and I can't lose her! I love her."

"I'm sorry, Agent Ward," Bobbi said, jaw set. "It's too great a risk." She ended the call before he could say another word.

Bobbi took a deep breath, putting Ward and his girlfriend out of her mind. About to infiltrate the enemy yet again, she had bigger problems than a HYDRA agent who was helping persecute Inhumans without even realizing she was one. If something happened before Bobbi and Hunter had a chance to do something about it—if they decided to do something about it—then karma would have had its say.

She hit the button to lower the rear ramp a little harder than necessary and stood up from the pilot's chair, setting her features into a half-stern, half-menacing visage. Bobbi swept out of the plane without a backward glance, trusting the agents running the landing pads to refuel and prep it for flight again. The glass doors leading into the Triskelion slid open for her when she scanned her ID and she got into the elevator to her right.

"Floor?" the man inside asked.

"Twentieth," Bobbi replied. "Good to see you, Sitwell."

"And you, Morse. It's been a while. Haven't even seen your name come up—"

"Special mission from Madame Hydra," Bobbi cut him off.

"Oh...right." Sitwell looked flustered at the idea of an op so highly classified that he wasn't privy to it. She gave him a thin smile and they spent the rest of the ride listening to the faint hum of Bakshi News playing its propaganda in the background. Sitwell got off on the eighteenth, leaving Bobbi alone to ascend the last two levels. When the doors opened, she was faced with two rows of cubicles with upper level agents of HYDRA hard at work inside them. She began to walk purposefully through the center aisle, trying to make it to the other side unhindered.

"Agent Morse!" Melinda May strode toward her from behind, forcing Bobbi to turn around just two feet from the door to the next hallway. The Asian woman looked as cold as she always had after joining HYDRA. Post-Bahrain, really. "May I ask where you're headed?"

"Detention level," Bobbi said truthfully. "I have orders to transfer some of the experimentation subjects out of the compound."

"Not orders from me."

Damn. "No, ma'am. From Agent Sitwell." Though the line about Madame Hydra was most efficient at stopping questions, May was high up enough to have access to the Madame and ask if she became suspicious enough.

"And an agent of your skillset is well used in prisoner transport?" May raised one sinisterly sculpted eyebrow.

"Apparently so when they have powers," Bobbi replied, letting just a hint of challenge slip into her voice.

"Fine," May said finally. "But when you're done with that, you have another assignment." She tapped something on her tablet, then turned it to show to Bobbi. "Calderon. A subversive within our own ranks. The Doctor wants him eliminated."

"Not even an interrogation?"

"We'll leave that up to you. Bring back some useful Intel on the Patriot, if he knows anything."

"You think he's S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"He's well-trained. If he isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. already, he soon will be."

"Got it," Bobbi nodded.

May stepped to the side to let her pass, and as she exited the room she heard her snap at one of the agents, "Pinskey! Call everyone in for an intake briefing!"

Letting out a breath of relief, Bobbi turned down a side hall and found the computer terminal she was looking for. Plugging in a flash drive to its side, she logged in with a set of credentials stolen from an agent downstairs and began to copy the files for their newest intakes off of it. Names and images flashed by on the screen.

Their best computer tech had tried to hack into the system from the outside instead of doing it manually every time, but in their rise HYDRA had offered the hackers of the Rising Tide a place among their ranks, and quite a few had decided to join up rather than remain loners. A B.S. in Computer Science was no match for them.

When the copy was done, Bobbi ejected the flash drive and slipped it into her pocket, now safekeeping the medical records of the three Inhumans she was about to rescue so that proper treatment could be given back at camp. Then she headed down to the detention level, as she had told May she would.

Getting into their cells to release was the easy part. Getting them to trust her—or even cooperate—was harder.

The woman wasn't so bad. Cowed, beaten, bloodied, and treated generally like an animal by the HYDRA scientists, she followed Bobbi's instructions as if she was holding a cattle prod. Bobbi made the mistake of trying to help her up, however, and thin, silvery, quill-like needles burst through every pore of her arms and legs, making the woman cry out sharply in pain.

Why did it have to be needles?

Nevertheless, Bobbi squatted down next to her and took her hand slowly, so as not to poke herself. "You are not a monster," she told her, fully aware of the HYDRA imprints on the sleeves of her imposing scarlet jacket. "I am going to take you somewhere safe, somewhere you will not be harmed."

"Kill me," the woman croaked. "Kill me now. You people are right. I'm a monster, and I don't want to live like this."

"You're not a monster. You have abilities. They're not your fault, and you can learn how to control them and make them into gifts instead of burdens." Bobbi knew the speech by heart, had perfected it with a score of other Inhumans on whom she'd attempted rescues. "Please, come with me." After a moment's pause, "You have no other choice." Not the nicest thing to say, but minorly comforting and better yet, efficient.

Slowly, the woman shifted her legs into a position Bobbi understood to be an attempt to stand up. Grasping her under the arms-ow, poky, hopefully there wasn't any venom in these things because she hadn't prepared for that-she gently hauled the Inhuman to her feet, which luckily she remained on after Bobbi let go, swaying. "All right, let's go." Bobbi guided her out the door.

The kids, of course, were harder. Much harder. Bobbi was glad she'd told the woman to wait outside, because she didn't really look to be up to dodging fireballs. Well, not fire _balls_ per se, but it was definitely more than wisps of flame coming out of the boy's mouth whenever he coughed, choking on his own smoke. His lips were badly burned, red and inflamed with blistery bubbles beneath the skin.

His younger sister was huddled in the opposite corner, looking terrified. The only sign of her Inhumanity was the slight ridging of her nose. Bobbi tried for her first, kneeling in front of her and speaking softly, but the girl was obviously too panicked for any of Bobbi's words to reach her. Eight years old, matted black hair, burns all up and down her arms...Bobbi had seen better, but she definitely had seen worse too.

But this girl was lucky, she reminded herself. She was one Bobbi could save. The same wasn't true for all of them.

"Up you get," Bobbi said, hoisting her roughly under the arms and hauling her to her feet. "I'm going to help you, but you have to do your part." She pulled a pair of electro-shackles from her belt, looking the girl in the eyes. "Now, don't be alarmed, but I'm going to have to put these on you." The girl immediately started struggling, but Bobbi deftly slipped the cuffs over her thin wrists and activated the locking mechanism. Dodging spurts of fire, she did the same to the boy. A third pair of handcuffs found their way onto the woman's wrists, and then Bobbi attached them all together with a length of chain. She felt for the shocker in her pocket, knowing she would never use the little plastic remote on these three but wanting to prevent anyone else from doing so out of her own carelessness.

Bobbi was about to frog-match them out the door—boy first, so no one would get singed—when another agent appeared out of the elevator. "Bobbi," he said, appearing surprised.

"Agent Rumlow," she replied through gritted teeth.

"What are you doing?" he asked casually. Then, taking a closer look, "Is that fire-boy? Subject 8115A?"

"Just doing prisoner transport on the Doctor's orders," Bobbi answered.

"The Doctor just sent me to collect its sister, 8115B," Rumlow told her, lips twisting into a mockery of a smile. He brushed one scarred finger against the puckered flesh of his left cheek. Bobbi prepared for a fight. "He said my unique experiences with fire would make me suited to the job in case fire-boy had an objection. Where are you taking it?"

"To the Doctor," Bobbi said smoothly. "I was also told 8115B was wanted for experimentation. The other two are being transported out of D.C. for holding, until the Doctor can get to them."

"And you were taking all three at once? Bobbi, always taking on all the responsibility...let some of us do our jobs as well, yeah?"

"I do that, mistakes get made," Bobbi said, jutting her chin forward in a slight challenge.

The smirk slipped off his face. "Give it to me," Rumlow demanded in a low voice, jerking the fingers of his outstretched hand. Though he technically didn't have the authority to order her to do it, Bobbi knew if she made a ruckus now she risked losing the other two as well. She risked getting caught.

She unbuckled her restraints from the other two, handing her over. The wild, scared look in the girl's eyes was one that Bobbi knew she wouldn't be forgetting soon, no many how many times she'd seen it before in this line of work.

With her compliance, Rumlow's chip-toothed smile was back. "Always good to see you, Bobbi. Hail HYDRA."

"Hail HYDRA." She kept her eyes on him until he was around the corner and out of sight.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and let me know what you thought! This will be a four chapters total, updated every two to three days depending on how impatient I get ;)**


	2. Identity and Change

**More Bobbi-Hunter banter coming your way... :)**

* * *

 **TWO**

 **Identity and Change**

"Hey, what're you looking at, love?" Arms slipped around her waist and Bobbi stiffened momentarily before relaxing as the familiar scent of his aftershave enveloped her. "I hate how you get when you come back from that place," Hunter told her, releasing her midsection and moving his fingers up to her shoulders and beginning the knead her muscles. "So uptight." When she didn't say anything, he added, close enough to her ear to feel his warm breath, "And quiet."

"Sorry," Bobbi said, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. Her hands absentmindedly folded up the well-worn picture she had been looking at. "Do you know...does the name Grant Ward mean anything to you?"

"No," Hunter said immediately. His forehead creased. "Wait. Maybe. I don't know."

Her lips quirked upward ever so slightly. "A very conclusive answer, thank you."

"Who is he?"

"An agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. One of the Patriot's men, apparently."

"Grant Ward, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D...does ring a bell, actually." Bobbi twisted in her seat on the bed to look at him. "A very small bell," Hunter covered. "Very far away. Can't even hear it, really."

"What is it, Hunter," Bobbi said in a flat voice.

"Well...I don't know. The name makes me think of Izzy."

She rolled her shoulders, scooting away from him on the bed with a frown. "You can mention her name in my presence, Hunter. It's been years."

"One year, eleven months, actually," Hunter said, pressing a kiss into her hair near the top of her head and sitting down next to her. She turned to face him.

"Why do you know that?"

"Anniversary's coming up," he gave a small shrug. "I wanted to make sure you were okay on the day, maybe do something special. Commemorative."

Bobbi reached for him, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you."

"For what, remembering our old friend? That's not—"

"For reminding me why I love you," Bobbi told him, feeling a single tear run down her cheek and wet his shirt. "And the other thing." She pulled away, wiping her face furiously with her sleeves. "Wait. Hunter. Grant Ward—not Izzy, _Vic_." Bobbi hurriedly pulled open the picture she had been staring at just a few minutes before, focused this time not on the dark-haired force of nature to eight-years-ago-Bobbi's left but on the red-streaked strategist and tactician on her right. The smartest agent in S.H.I.E.L.D. when it came to ops or organizational matters, who had died making sure the organization made it underground without a trace. "Victoria was his SO. He was her first cadet."

Hunter let her process that for a couple of seconds, then asked, "So, you going to tell me why Grant Ward is coming up in the first place or what?"

"He called me today, asking for sanctuary with the project for his girlfriend, Skye."

"Not too out of the ord—" Her look shut him up.

"She hasn't gone through Terrigenesis, doesn't even know she's Inhuman. And...she's an agent of HYDRA."

"I take it back. Very out of the ordinary." Hunter ran a hand over his short-cut hair. "You told him no?"

"Of course. Too much risk to the project."

"But he's Vic's first protégé!"

She flashed him a look. "Well I didn't know that then, when he called me out of the blue."

"But you can get ahold of him again, if he's one of the Patriot's men. You can make this right by Vic."

"And do what, bring a HYDRA agent straight to the only organized shelter for changed Inhumans in this hemisphere?" She stared at him, hard, not really angry at him but at the world in general for providing her such impossible decisions. "I already lost one today, Hunter. Her name was Savannah. She was eight." He opened his mouth to say something else, probably to apologize, but she headed him off. "I'm going to go check on her brother."

"Bob."

She turned back—she owed him that much. But he just shook his head, motioning for her to leave.

* * *

Medical was nothing special, not after years of high-tech, state of the art S.H.I.E.L.D. wards. Theirs was just a slightly larger than normal cabin, five beds and a desk for the Inhuman on duty that night. Usually Lavinia, since she had some prior first aid training that had been added onto by various ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agents over the years. It wasn't a lot, but they made do. Somehow.

Today, however, there were only two people in Medical, both of them patients—the two Bobbi had rescued earlier that day. The woman looked better, a few bandages on her arms and tape across the cut on her head. She sat on a chair next to the boy's bed and jumped as the door opened before recognizing Bobbi. "Where's…"

"She looked asleep on her feet," the woman replied softly. "I said I'd watch him." Glancing down, Bobbi saw her hand was interlaced with his.

"How is he?" Bobbi asked.

"Just fell asleep." She patted the quilts covering his thin frame. "Couldn't put these on him until the fire stopped."

"I understand," she murmured.

"The doctor…isn't sure he'll survive this much trauma so soon after the Change."

Bobbi nodded stiffly. "I've seen it before."

"His sister...there's no hope of…?"

"No," Bobbi said with finality. "Inhumans don't come back from that place once they're taken."

"Where are they—where would _we_ have been taken?" the woman asked, voice trembling.

"It's better that you don't know." Bobbi looked down at the boy's sleeping form. "It's better that _he_ doesn't know." After another moment, she turned away. "You should try to get some rest too, if you can. I'll be back—" Her sentence was cut short by a strange gurgling sound from inside the boy's throat, and a second later he was thrashing about on the bed. His eyes were open and bloodshot, spinning around in circles to stare at nothing as his mouth choked out a stream of scarlet. "Get Lavinia," Bobbi ordered, immobilizing the boy's shoulders as best she could. Crimson spattered her chin and neck with one particularly loud gargle. The woman ran out the door. "Stay with me," Bobbi told him fiercely, but the rational part of her mind knew it was probably too late.

It was probably only seconds later that Lavinia was at her side, administering a last-ditch shot of the post-Terrigenesis stabilizing serum that they'd been giving him in small amounts since his arrival. The boy convulsed, once, twice, and then was still. Too still.

"I'm sorry," Lavinia said softly, pulling back the quilts and unfolding a blank white sheet.

"There was nothing you could have done," Bobbi told her before realizing that she had not been speaking to her at all, but the woman standing white-faced at his bedside. Lavinia draped the sheet gently over his body, covering his face last with a gentle billow of white.

Lavinia glanced at the woman, then looked at Bobbi. "I can handle this. You…" She gestured towards the door of Medical.

"Come with me," Bobbi said, her hand closing gently around the woman's wrist. With a small amount of pulling, she led her outside where a cold, crisp breeze was whipping across the mountaintop. Gooseflesh appeared up and down the woman's bare arms and she crossed them, mouth pressed in a tight, miserable line that Bobbi understood to have nothing to do with the chill. "There's a bunk set up for you just down that path," she gestured. "Clothes, toiletries. Everything you need to get set up here. Your roommate will help you settle in; she's been here for a few months now."

"Okay," the woman whispered, hands white and clenched. "I just...with him, I just thought I might have a reason for being here. For being rescued."

"You do," Bobbi told her. "You do because you deserve a life. You do because you will have a role here, when you're ready for it—without helping each other and doing our fair share, this sanctuary couldn't exist."

The woman nodded numbly. "I understand."

"Good. When you're ready, talk to Joey. He can give you something to do."

* * *

"Bob, your face." Hunter launched to his feet and toward her with concern, papers haphazardly shoved onto the small table next to the armchair he'd been sitting in.

"Those the receipts from the supply run?" Bobbi asked tiredly.

"Yeah, we're eighty-six cents below our original budget, but Bob—"

"Eighty-six cents," she repeated with an edge of sarcasm to her voice. "We're really doing well moving the funds we need for construction out of consumption expenditure." It wasn't a jab at him and he knew it. "Also, you should take the new intake on your next supply run so she can pick up a few things herself, make her feel human again."

"Not a lot she can buy for eighty-six cents," Hunter quipped. He looked at her, a hard glint in his eyes. "Bobbi, you have dried blood all over you."

"I know," she murmured. He crossed over to the sink before she could take a step towards it, wetting their dark blue washcloth and coming back to her. He gently pushed her into the seat he had occupied before she came in, and Bobbi sank into it. She vaguely registered that the chair was still warm.

"I heard about the boy," Hunter told her as he dabbed at her chin with the damp cloth. "I'm sorry, Bob. Did you go around like this all afternoon?"

"I didn't think about it," Bobbi admitted. "How bad is that, that I wouldn't even notice blood dried to my skin for hours? How used to it must I be?" She swallowed, hard, as Hunter's dabbing moved south to the curve of her neck. "It reminds me of how Natasha used to talk about it...like swimming in a constant sea of blood. Except she was referring to the blood she'd spilled...I just can't escape other people spilling it."

He set the cloth aside, hands moving to grasp her shoulders around the base of her neck, pressing lightly. "A lot more blood would be spilled without you, Bob."

She met his eyes, and he took that correctly as the initiation for a quick kiss. "You too. Come on, let's get ready for bed."

"I've been ready for hours," he joked, grasping her hand and helping her up. "You really should look into whoever manages your schedule; they might be having you work unpaid overtime."

"Ha ha," Bobbi deadpanned, but grateful for the levity nonetheless.

"Did you even remember to eat dinner?" Hunter asked.

One side of her lips twitched upward. "No. But how else do you think we get eighty-six cents below budget?"

"Tomorrow morning I'm forcing you to have a proper breakfast." He was rolling his eyes, but she knew he was completely serious as well. And right, for once in his life.

"As long as you don't cook it yourself," she replied, stepping into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"Hey! I can make eggs," he fired back.

"Undercooked eggs that run the risk of salmonella. I also seem to remember a hotel in Charleston where our cover almost got blown when you set off the fire alarm with some very blackened bacon?"

"What about my pancakes?" Hunter challenged, pulling off his shirt to leave him in just his sleeping shorts. "Remember our undercover op in Leeds? I would have won first place if the vampire cult hadn't chosen that moment to attempt their blood sacrifice."

"Those aren't pancakes," Bobbi scoffed, putting her toothbrush away and coming out of the bathroom. "They're neither thick nor fluffy nor stackable."

He huffed, a noise that sounded suspiciously like " _Americans_." She smiled, pulling out bedclothes from her drawer—a rattier Star Wars tee she'd had since her Academy days and a looser pair of leggings. "Speaking of undercover, get in here," Hunter said, once again in his normal voice and this time from in the bed. "I swear the nights are getting colder."

"That is generally how winter works," Bobbi smirked, pulling the clothes on before switching off the light. She lifted the covers on her side of the bed and slipped underneath, scooting over until she could wrap her left arm around his bare midsection. His arm shifted automatically to wrap around her, allowing Bobbi to rest her head on juncture between his arm and chest. Underneath her ear, his heart beat steadily, its familiar rhythm already fading away some of the horrors of the day. "If you're so cold, why are you sleeping with your shirt off?" Bobbi pointed out in a mumble against his chest.

"Because then I have an excuse to pull you closer," he replied, and a light pressure on top of her head told her he'd placed a kiss in her hair.

Her fingertip traced a nonsensical pattern on the soft skin of his stomach. "You don't need an excuse for that."

"Besides, I know you like it," Hunter whispered. "I have very nice abs."

"Mmm," Bobbi said noncommittally, smiling in the dark where she knew he couldn't see her. "'Love you."

"Love you too, Bob."

* * *

"Hunter...I think we have to do it." Bobbi's voice was low and hard, still slightly blurred with sleep from where she sat perched on the edge of their bed.

"Mmph?" The Hunter-shaped lump under the covers shifted, reaching for her out of habit or in response, she wasn't sure.

" _Hunter_ ," she said again with more force.

"'M awake," he said vaguely. Long pause. "Have to do what, exactly?"

"Take in Skye."

"Who's Skye?"

"Ward's girlfriend. The Inhuman HYDRA agent."

"Who's Ward?" She turned around, glaring. "Kidding, love." He pushed himself up on his elbows. "Okay, so what's the plan?"

Caught by surprise, Bobbi opened her mouth and then stopped. "Shouldn't you be trying to talk me out of this? Ask me why I changed my mind?"

"Doesn't matter why. I trust you to have made the right decision." He gave her a small smile. "So, what's the plan?"

"I have to call Ward," she said, reaching out to clasp his arm and run her thumb across it softly, a silent thank-you for his earlier words. "And you can start setting up containment?"

"You got it," Hunter replied. He kissed the back of her hand and then slid his legs out of the bed, standing up with a stretch and a yawn.

Bobbi made the call after Hunter had left, pacing the limited space in their quarters as she was wont to do while making phone calls. As soon as he picked up, she said, "Falcons fly faster than eagles."

"The west wind outstrips them both."

"Agent Ward," she greeted him calmly.

"Agent Morse," Ward's relieved-sounding voice came through the phone. There was a slight wind noise behind him, and the hum of an engine. Driving, if Bobbi had to guess.

"I'm not an agent anymore," she reminded him.

"Sorry, I just…" He gave a small, choked laugh—more of a huff of breath, really. "I guess I hoped any amount of familiarity and common ground would help convince you. Have you...reconsidered my request?"

"I have," Bobbi said carefully. "We'll have to plan an extraction. Since she's HYDRA, it may be more of a kidnapping. I'll need a few days to prep a place to hold her on my end. We're not normally in the business of taking prisoners."

"That's fine," Ward said in a curt, clipped voice. Despite his best efforts, she could hear the strained emotion within. "Thank you. Although I have to warn you, I won't be much help. She's kind of mad at me right now."

"Why?"

"She asked me to move in with her. I...couldn't say yes. Not when I was hiding so much of my life from her. So much of _her_ life." He was less able to hide it now, not that he had been doing particularly well before.

"You know that if she comes here, you won't be able to come with her?"

"I know. All that matters is she's safe. I'm going to keep fighting to take HYDRA down, and once that happens, Skye and I can be reunited." He paused. "If I can ask...what made you change your mind?"

"Because Victoria Hand was a close friend of mine," Bobbi said. "And she would never have done it." She ended the call, sucking in a deep breath. "But she would have wanted to."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought!**


	3. All the Madame's Men

**THREE**

 **All the Madame's Men**

Bobbi's hand went to her pocket immediately as her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, looking at Joey apologetically. "You've done good work with this cell, especially given the time frame and the materials available."

"Thanks, Bobbi. I'll leave you to it." He strode off towards the main section of cabins, shoulders unslumped, leaving her standing next to the newly suped-up containment building-Skye's cell, to be exact. It was nearly finished and with time to spare, which was a rare phenomenon in the history of the Tabula Rasa Project. Only the surveillance and food delivery systems had yet to be completed, and that amounted to a connecting a few wires and installing what was essentially a doggy door. Bobbi hoped it wouldn't come to that-that Skye would be more cooperative than forcing them to use a completely hands-off approach to contain her-and she'd seen _Jurassic World_ enough times to know that interaction with inanimate objects was much less likely to sway a person to your side than interaction with actual people. It all depended on whether Skye, agent of HYDRA, was less ferocious than the Indominus rex.

She hit the 'accept call' button just in time, not recognizing the number. "Hello?"

"For the season, it's been unusually rainy," Ward said in one rushed breath.

"Rain or shine, the man with the umbrella is always ready," Bobbi replied, brow furrowing and body going instantly to high alert. "What's wrong? Our op isn't scheduled for another three days."

"You have to go now," Ward said. "Please, you have to go now. HYDRA took her and S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have the resources and Jeffrey won't listen to me and—"

"They realized she's Inhuman?"

"Yes. No. Not exactly. Things got...complicated. But they know she's Inhuman and they're holding her in the cells and my cover is pretty much blown…"

"Complicated?" Bobbi prompted.

"It doesn't matter; it's too hard to explain. Just help her. Please."

"I am not walking into HYDRA on a rescue op without knowing what sort of shitshow I'm walking into, Agent Ward," she said flatly. "What's happened?"

"Hell, I don't even know! Skye-I mean Daisy, she goes by Daisy now for some god-unknown reason-she's S.H.I.E.L.D., or something. Deep cover. She's like a whole different person, all mixed up with that woman Simmons and this history teacher. A group of people, really-it's like they're collecting them. But they don't even seem to know quite what's going on, things they _should_ know, but they know these people…"

"Simmons...it couldn't be Jemma Simmons that you're referring to?" Bobbi asked, ready to dismiss the stray thought almost as soon as she'd had it.

"Yes, Jemma Simmons. Do you know her?"

"I was supposed to guest lecture on the applications of Biology in the field for her freshmen class...that was a week after the Academy was destroyed. She was one of the casualties. She's supposed to be a dead woman."

"That can't be the first time you've had someone seem to come back from the dead in our line of work," Ward said. "Please, about Skye…"

She consulted the time on her phone, doing some quick math to calculate out the difference in times. "Give me the evening to prep and the night to fly to the Triskelion. I'll be there midday tomorrow, your time, to do the extraction."

"Thank you," Ward said. "If there's anything I can do—"

"Give me all the intel you have. Level of security, officer in command of the block…"

"Highest," Ward admitted, voice tight. "Jurisdiction of Melinda May, but they say she's been visited by Madame Hydra and the Doctor."

"Who the hell is your girlfriend?" Bobbi swore.

Ward let out a choked chuckle. "I wish I knew."

Ending the call, Bobbi gave herself one more moment to swear again, then jumped into action. She had grabbed her Mockingbird tac suit from her closet and a spare set of combat knives from the armory before she remembered to set up her cover with HYDRA, which basically amounted to calling Sitwell and feigning boredom in order to ask for a mission for tomorrow afternoon. He was just the right mix of bureaucrat and paper pusher for her to manipulate him into giving her something non-undercover and fairly violent, though unlikely to be life threatening and easy to fake results for should HYDRA be up to something especially nefarious with it.

She donned the tac suit, taking the time to make sure all of the armor was seated right and protecting her vital organs and fitting the knives into their correct sleeves. Two more went into small sheaths fitted into each boot. In the drawer of their nightstand she found her HYDRA-issue pistol and her staves. She holstered the pistol and twirled the staves once in a quick circle before raising them behind her head where they snapped magnetically into place behind her shoulders. Then she paused, taking mental inventory and making sure she had everything. She ran her hands over the front of the tac suit, pursing her lips against the green tint the HYDRA engineers had added to the design and the HYDRA symbol embossed lightly in the leather.

They'd wanted to add a 'boob window' in the front too, but Bobbi had balked hard at that. Misogynistic bastards.

"You heading out, Bob?" Hunter's voice sounded from the doorway. She turned around as he stepped into the room, his eyes looking her up and down. His brow furrowed. "Into a war zone?"

"Short version?" Bobbi sighed. "Skye isn't HYDRA, they have her as a high-level prisoner, I have to get her now or it might be too late."

"How are you going to keep your cover?" Hunter asked concernedly. "If she's that importnt to them…"

"I might lose it," Bobbi conceded. "But we'd been talking for a while now about quitting the undercover part of this operation anyway. If she's that important to HYDRA, she might be game-changing."

"Right," Hunter swallowed. "Cost-benefit analysis of how much damage your HYDRA-sanctioned missions did in the world versus how much good you can do there. I remember that. Are you leaving now?"

"Pretty much. Can you make sure the cell is as ready as possible before I get back? ETA around midnight probably."

"Can do." Hunter pulled her in for a kiss, then a lingering hug. She breathed in the scent of his aftershave deeply, letting the familiarness of it bolster her confidence, her mood. "Don't die out there," he whispered into her hair.

"Promise." Eventually she forced herself to pull away, heading out of the room and towards the mess hall for a couple of MREs. She wrinkled her nose at the options but eventually selected Beef Ravioli and Chicken Pesto Pasta, wondering if Hunter had the right idea of purposefully _not_ choosing the best-sounding of the bunch with the knowledge that if you were expecting _actual_ Beef Ravioli, you would be sorely disappointed.

Then she boarded the Quinjet, stowed her gear, performed the pre-flight check, and lifted off. Once she was cruising along at twenty thousand feet, she reclined slightly in the pilot's seat and set the autopilot. Then she settled in for the fourteen hour flight.

She didn't particularly mind the lost time. There was space enough to move about on the Quinjet, along with some precious alone time. In fact, she could even say she liked the commute to work, although that was because it was less like a commute to work than a commute to her second job. Constantly on call for both HYDRA and the Tabula Rasa Project, either jumping when her HYDRA superiors said "jump" in order to keep her perfect little soldier routine going or running the facility as the leader and protector of a group of scared, hunted people, she never really got time to herself. To relax. If something needed to be done while she was up here, there was literally nothing she could do about it.

At least before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell she had been constantly on call for emergencies but _at home_ when she was at home. And when they'd been mercs on the run it had been them choosing the ops, choosing where to move. She wasn't quite sure where she and Hunter had learned to work out their differences...maybe running for their lives in a world headed to hell had forced them to finally appreciate what they had with each other. Instead of being compatible only when it suited them-about fifty percent of the time, Hunter had once calculated-they were compatible whenever they possibly could because any moment could be their last. And it was good to have some sanity in a world slowly going insane, even if Hunter's version of sanity had never quite fit with hers.

An MRE, a long nap, and a beautiful sunrise later, Bobbi was navigating the Quinjet onto a Triskelion landing pad. She shut down the engines once she was safely landed on the lower-level roof, hitting the correct buttons on the control panel to digitally request an immediate refuel. Her clearance wasn't high enough to do it, but Sitwell's was, and luckily he was the one sanctioning this op.

She stood up, taking a deep breath and schooling her features into that of a HYDRA enforcer. She activated the lowering of the ramp, striding out of the plane with purpose exuding from every step, and watched in satisfaction as the technicians who had run up to begin the refueling scurried out of her way. After a quick scan of her ID badge, the glass doors leading into the Triskelion slid open. She turned to her right, entering the elevator. Two people were already inside, one going to the thirteenth floor and one to the nineteenth. Bobbi pushed the twentieth for herself-high-level ops and interrogations.

It was around floor seventeen when she started hearing it. Gunshots.

"Is that…?" the woman asked, appearing equal parts concerned and alarmed.

"It's nothing. Just a drill," Bobbi told her, mannerisms authoritative and self-important.

"Oh!" the woman said. She got off on the next floor, leaving Bobbi alone to ascend towards the sound of firing bullets getting ever more audible above the hum of Bakshi News playing in the background. Bobbi stepped away from where the doors would open so that if people shot into the elevator as soon as the doors opened she wouldn't get hit and then pulled the staves off her back, twirling them once, quickly, at her sides.

The _ding_ announcing her arrival was not drowned out by gunfire but instead by the sound of pistols being dropped to the floor by two dark-haired women twenty feet from where Bobbi stood. Their hands were raised and their breathing quick, the glass doors leading the shot-up set of cubicles they'd just run out of still swinging slightly on their hinges. Ahead of them in the elevator opposite Bobbi's stood Madame Hydra herself, dressed in the darkest of greens and a sadistic smile playing about her lips. Two guards in full tac gear flanked her, but Bobbi knew well enough to know they were child's play compared to her.

"Agent May. Interesting," the Madame said, stepping forward. "No matter the circumstance, none of you can escape your true nature. You, the warrior. Mack, the protector. And Fitz...well, he's a romantic."

"And me, what-I don't make the list?" the woman on the left said. From her voice, Bobbi recognized her as Skye-Daisy?-based on the voice samples Ward had provided her. She raised her staves and readied herself to run out in Skye's defense, but before she could make it more than two feet, Skye raised her arms, causing waves of power to radiate out of them, knocking Madame Hydra directly in the chest. Bobbi watched in shock as the Madame was blasted out the glass back of the elevator, free-falling toward the concrete dozens of levels below.

The shattering of glass, a shrill scream, and then...silence. "Let's move," Skye said, and the two of them disappeared around a corner.

"Madame Hydra is down, Madame Hydra is down!" one of the guards yelled into his radio. "Requesting medevac and immediate backup to hunt down those responsible. Agents Ma-"

"No!" Bobbi sprang into action, sweeping out of the elevator and taking command. "Our top priority is the safety of the Madame. Send units down there to protect her along with a full contingent of medical staff and have the teams search all windows on the west side for snipers. This was an attempt on the Madame's life, and if she is still alive, her position is vulnerable and out in the open."

"Yes, ma'am," the guard said immediately, relaying the new orders over the radio. "What about Agents May and Skye?"

"We'll conduct the manhunt after we ensure HYDRA's head is safe," Bobbi ordered. "You know what the Doctor will do to us if we do not do everything in our power to protect her from further harm." The man paled, and Bobbi hoped that she had given May and Skye enough time to disappear. "A little bit of time will make no difference. Two people on the run are no match for the resources of HYDRA."

* * *

"I tried, Ward, but by the time I was able to get out of there the nearby streets had been shut down and placed under martial law and they were long gone. But she's with May-if anyone has the skills to avoid HYDRA detection and reach you, it's her."

"May?" Ward said. "As in, Melinda May, one of the founding members of HYDRA? Morse—"

"She must have turned," Bobbi said, cutting across him. "I wouldn't have expected it of May either, but I know what I saw. And how else would Skye have gotten ahold of the Terrigen?"

"You're right," he admitted. "I'll let you know if they make it here. Thanks, Bobbi, for everything you've done."

"My pleasure, Grant Ward, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. And also...Vic would be proud."


	4. World's End

**Thanks for coming on this ride with me. I hope you enjoyed it :)**

* * *

 **FOUR**

 **World's End**

She sifted through her closet mechanically, shifting aside dresses and pantsuits and tac suits to find the hangar full of scarves. "Hunter, maroon or periwinkle?"

"Aw, no, Bob, I got you both of those scarves," he whined, coming over to her closet to look. "Don't you remember? This one I had to haggle with the crazy cat lady shopkeeper for—" He ran his hands against the red-purple one. "—and this one saved our lives in Beirut that time I got knocked into an icy river and you had to pull me out." He gestured at the blue.

"C'mon, you have to choose," Bobbi told him. "Besides, it's not like you'll never see it again."

"But not on you," Hunter sighed. "All right, I guess I could do without memories of what I think might have been a giant catfish trying to pull me under the surface, so I guess give her the blue."

"Okay," Bobbi smiled, pulling it off the hanger and folding it into a neat square before placing it on her bed. "Carol will wear it more often than I would anyways." She turned back to the closet. "Now for sweaters…" She surveyed the options.

"This seems like an awful lot of trouble just to save a few extra bucks on the budget for this month," Hunter grumbled. "We're not doing _that_ poorly, you know. There's always the rainy day fund that I know you've been squirreling cash into."

She ignored him. "Can't do this pair, because they're part of my HYDRA ensemble...not these two, they're the only ones that work for missions in really cold climates, this one's waterproof, so that leaves…" She pulled out two unnecessary pairs of pants, looked them over for excess wear or holes, and then turned to place them next to the scarf.

Hadn't she left the scarf right there on the bed just a minute ago?

"Hunter," she said, exasperated and frankly slightly annoyed, "give it back."

"Give what back?" he asked from where he had his legs propped up on the desk, reading from a stack of papers.

"The scarf. I know you don't like giving away stuff that has memories for us attached to it, but let's be honest-almost everything we own is like that. So stop being a child and hand it over."

"Bob, I didn't take it!" Hunter said vehemently. "I've been over here the whole time reading these bloody security reports."

Bobbi frowned. "Fine, but it couldn't have just _disappeared_."

"Maybe you just misplaced it." He grinned. "You're not infallible, Bob, no matter how much you think you are."

"Ha ha." Her eyes swept the bed again, then the floor underneath it-had it fallen off?-and the floor between the bed and the closet. Nothing.

"Hey, what happened to my coffee?" Hunter demanded.

"What?" Bobbi looked up.

"My coffee, it was just here." Hunter looked equally spooked now, slowly meeting her eyes. "Does that seem like a coincidence to you?"

"...No," Bobbi admitted, shifting to high alert.

"Could it be one of the Inhumans playing a trick on us?" Hunter mused, hand inching towards his gun.

"No, we don't have anyone with those powers," Bobbi said. "Speed, invisibility...none."

The bed between them flickered, and for a moment Bobbi could see the floor and requisite dust bunnies beneath it.

"Did you see that?" Hunter asked.

Before she could answer, the bed disappeared completely. Frame, mattress, unmade blankets-everything just...gone.

"What the hell is going on?" Hunter demanded. "What is this, the end of the world?" A shriek came from somewhere outside.

"It's not just us," Bobbi said. She ran for the door, yanking it open and emerging into the sunlight. She whipped her head from side to side, seeking the source of the scream. Then she saw it-where an entire cabin should be, just a bunk bed, chest of drawers, desk, chair, open to the sky. The structure was completely gone.

Upon spotting them, the inhabitants of the cabin sprinted towards them, feet beating the worn path between cabins. "It just-just-disappeared!"

"Take them to the pavilion," Bobbi told Hunter. "I'll make an announcement. Get everyone out of the cabins and in an open space."

"Why an open—"

"What happens if the walls disappear but not the roof?" Bobbi said, shouting over her shoulder as she'd already taken off running for the access panel to the PA system. She pulled the lever sounding the alarm, a shrill klaxon echoing off the nearby mountains. People began to appear from all directions, summoned by the call, and she directed them onwards towards where Hunter had them gathered. Forty-six in all, residents of this small sanctuary. Forty-six looked like a small number clustered around the elm tree that marked the middle of the pavilion. Forty-six lives she had saved. Forty-six lives held in her hands.

She was assailed by questions as she approached Hunter in tones that ranged from confused to terrified, but she could only shake her head and say "I don't know" and keep moving.

"Let's sit down," Hunter said when she reached him, "unless you have a better idea, Bob? Some way to fight this?"

She shook her head mutely. In all her years of experience, nothing had ever defied her ability to understand it, or at least see how it could be understood. Nothing had so shattered the laws of physics as she knew them, had rendered her scientifically-inclined mind so helpless.

Why was Hunter so calm about this? Maybe he was panicking internally, as she was close to doing, but she didn't see it in his eyes. Didn't he understand that no matter in the universe could ever be created or, more importantly, destroyed?

Or maybe there were explanations that made sense, just not ones she could consider without breaking her worldview apart. If nothing could be created or destroyed, and with no visible outlet for energy that would come from a change in said matter, then the only explanation there was was that the scarf-and the coffee, and the bed, and the cabin, and anything else-that had disappeared was not made of matter.

Which left as options a lucid dreamworld or some sort of advanced virtual reality computer program.

Either of those meant that this world-and everything she'd bled and lost and nearly died for-wasn't real. And that was not something Bobbi was willing to accept without some damn good proof.

Like the elm tree winking out of existence in front of her eyes.

Hushed whispers of alarm ran through the gathered Inhumans, most of whom had taken to the ground in huddled, makeshift family groups. "Bob, your phone," Hunter told her gently, and handed it to her from her back pocket. No caller ID, but Bobbi would have accepted answers from anywhere at this point.

"Hello?"

"Bobbi," Agent Ward said, his voice strained. She hadn't heard from him since he'd reported that Skye was safe, days ago. Honestly, she hadn't expected to again. "I expect you;ve noticed by now the-the disappearances."

"Yes," Bobbi said. "Do you know what's causing them? How to stop them?"

"We can't," Ward said tiredly. "I don't know everything, but I'll explain what I can. This world isn't real. It was created as a prison for a few key S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. We are all a bunch of ones and zeros meant to populate it and simulate the real thing. Skye was one of the agents who inserted herself in order to get the prisoners out-wake them up. But now the program is being shut down, and...and all of us with it." Bobbi was silent, unable to trust her voice as her mind worked a mile a minute. "I know it doesn't seem believable, but…"

"I believe you, Ward," she said quietly. "Thank you for calling."

"I wish I could give you more—"

"The others, did they make it?" Bobbi asked.

"Yes, they did. It's a better world, one where they can still fight the good fight and it's not a losing battle. One where S.H.I.E.L.D. won."

"Good." Then this... _existence_...hadn't all been in vain.

She clicked off the phone call, turning to Hunter, but by the expression on his face she knew he'd heard every word. "You're really buying into the whole…" he gestured generally at the air.

"I don't have a better explanation." Bobbi leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder.

"We shouldn't tell them then," Hunter said, looking around at their Inhuman charges and friends. "It would only...it wouldn't…"

"Yeah."

A cry went up from somewhere in the pavilion, jerking both of their heads toward the sound. A man and a woman, wailing, grasping with futility at the place their adopted daughter had been. After another few seconds of staring transfixed in horror, Bobbi buried her face in Hunter's chest, holding him tight. "I just can't stand the fact that we can't do anything for them," she whispered.

He ducked his head, pressing his cheek to her hair. "I know, Bob. Just...let's think about something else. That other world, maybe. Do you think we exist in it, somewhere?"

"I don't know," Bobbi murmured, her brain latching onto this new problem like a lifeline. "I think we might. Otherwise there's no reason why I would know Simmons in this world." She lifted her head, pressing her forehead to his, hands clasped tight.

"Ward called it a better world, where S.H.I.E.L.D. won...where would we be right now if S.H.I.E.L.D. had won after Bahrain?" Hunter asked.

"Doing ops?" Bobbi suggested. "Me with S.H.I.E.L.D., you as a merc, I guess, like it was before...would we even be together in the…" She forced herself to say it. ".. _real world_?"

"I don't care if it's the real world," Hunter said, squeezing her hand. "I know we've had our problems, Bob, but the fact that we're together in any world is enough. Knowing me and you, we're off kicking ass doing our own thing and screwing with each other's ops at the most inopportune times and generally driving each other crazy and still being in love, whether we admit it or not. And I'm probably winning the daring rescues tally."

She snorted. "You are _not_ winning the rescues tally. In any world." At first she thought he meant metaphorically and waited for the teasing remark to come, but when none appeared forthwith she opened them. Hunter nodded outward, his head bumping against hers due to their proximity, and she looked around. Over half the Pavilion was empty, and most of the Inhumans left sitting silently in grief.

"Bob, maybe we should…" He extricated his hands from hers, moving to scoot away from her. "One of us will go first, and this way—if we keep our eyes closed—maybe we can just pretend the other's still there until we go too."

" _No_ ," she said, a little more forcefully than she'd meant to. "I'm not spending our last moments apart so that after one of us dies the other can pretend it didn't happen."

"You're right, Bob—I just wanted to make it easier for you, if I could…"

She grabbed his hands, holding them tightly with hers. "This is what makes it easiest. Being with you. I want every moment with you I can get, even if it means knowing I'm alone for a few seconds at the end." He nodded, looking choked, and then pressed his forehead to hers again.

Bobbi didn't know how long they stayed like that, listening to each other's breathing, feeling cool wind at their backs, eyes shut tight against a world that was ending. He was solid and warm and hers for these last few seconds, minutes, was it possible they'd get hours? She didn't know, just held on tight to the man she lov—

* * *

 **Kudos to anyone who recognized where the 'rescue tally' Bobbi and Hunter talked about is from ;)**


End file.
